very often hear it.
But I never heard of logical religion before.'

'True religion must be logical, must it not?'

'I thought religion was rather a matter of feeling.'

'I believe I used to think so.'

'And pray, what is it, then, Pitt?' his mother asked.

'Look here, mamma. "If any man will serve me, _let him follow me_."'

'Well, what do you understand by that, Pitt? You are going too fast for
me. I thought the love of God was the whole of religion.'

'But here is the "following," mamma.'

'What sort of following?'

'That is what I am asking. As it cannot be in bodily, so it must be in
mental footsteps.'

'I do not understand you,' said his mother, with an air both vexed and
anxious; while Miss Frere had now let her embroidery fall, and was
giving her best consideration to the subject and the speaker. She was a
little annoyed too, but she was more interested. This was a different
sort of conversation from any she had been accustomed to hear, and Pitt
was a different sort of speaker. He was not talking to kill time, or to
please her; he was--most wonderful and rare!--in earnest; and that not
in any matter that involved material interests. She had seen people in
earnest before on matters of speculation and philosophy, often on
stocks and schemes for making money, in earnest violently on questions
of party politics; but in earnest for the truth's sake, never, in all
her life. It was a new experience, and Pitt was a novel kind of person;
manly, straightforward, honest; quite a person to be admired, to be
respected, to be-- Where were her thoughts running?

He had sat silent a moment, after his mother's last remark; gravely
thinking. Betty brought him back to the point.

'You will tell us what you think "following" means?' she said gently.

'I will tell _you_,' he said, smiling. 'I am not supposed to be
speaking to mamma. If you will look at the way Christ went, you will
see what following Him must be. In the first place, Self was nowhere.'

'Yes,' said Miss Frere.

'Who is ready to follow Him in that?'

'But, my dear boy!' cried Mrs. Dallas. 'We are human creatures; we
cannot help thinking of ourselves; we are _meant_ to think of
ourselves. Everybody must think of self; or the world would not hold
together.'

'I am speaking to Miss Frere,' he said pleasantly.

'I confess I think so too, Mr. Dallas. Of course, we ought not to be
_selfish;_ that means, I suppose, to think of self unduly; but where
w